Sure, my friend Charity can rub in the fact that Gorbachev visited Google, but can she claim a visit from famous sausage chef Bruce Aidells? He stopped by Oracle today, taking over one of our cafes with all Aidells-themed food. (There was roasted pork loin, grilled sausages and sausage soup among other things.) I mean, sure, Gorbachev helped bring about the demise of the Soviet Union, but can the man cook? Did he give us chicken apple sausage? No, all he left us with are loose nukes and Putin.

I really do have fond memories of his sausage; when Benson and I first started dating I frequently cooked us breakfast on the weekend and made Aidells sausage. Of course, Benson doesn't remember--when I told him Aidells was coming today, the conversation went a little bit like this:

Joey: "Chef Aidells is going to be at Oracle tomorrow!"
Benson: "Who is that?"
Joey: "You know, the guy who makes the sausage?"
Benson: "Who?"

Then today:

Joey: "Look, I got Chef Aidells to sign a book for us."
Benson: "Who?"

The main reason for his visit was to promote his new book Complete Book of Pork. It felt a bit hypocritical getting a book signed. Benson works at a bookstore, and they have not-too-infrequent book signings. I've told him that the whole idea of getting a book signed by someone seems so meaningless. The process is too mechanical for the big names: sign the book, "next", sign the book, "next." When Clinton visited Barnes&Noble here in San Jose, it was specified that he would not write any personal messages, and he barely even spoke to the hundreds of people that came through.

But when I stopped by the cafe today, there was Bruce Aidells sitting at a table with his books, and no line. I had decided beforehand that I would buy one of his books and get it signed if it wasn't too much of a hassle--I sort of justified it to myself that this book could actually be useful. It is a cookbook after all. (I felt a bit guilty since I am Jewish and all, but pork just tastes so good.)

Since there was no line, and perhaps just because he is naturally friendly, we made some small talk. I asked him why he decided to write a whole book about pork (it turned out he was asked to by the publisher apparently).

He's also quite witty. He said that the book goes into details on how sausage is made. I asked "aren't we not supposed to want to see how it is made?" To which he responded "Much like programming."

Since he didn't have the same rule against personalization that Clinton apparently had, I asked him to make it out to me and Benson. He got a little flustered when spelling Benson's name:

It is amusing how celebrity works. After that brief moment, I feel some sort of connection to him, even though he wouldn't remember me if he saw me tomorrow. I can also feel a surge of brand loyalty building up in me. I find it funny that I am so uncomfortable with these feelings--and even moreso that I feel the need to justify it internally by thinking "he's a minor and local celebrity, with a wholesome and tasty product that I already enjoyed." Now if Gorbachev wants to come to Oracle with some Gorbachev-themed food, then maybe I'd let him sign a book for me.